A Reply
by Jazzola
Summary: A sequel to The Woes of Mrs Jones. Fred finally replies to his mother's message and explains why he can't go back.


_This is performed by Fred, after he has listened to his mother's rant on his phone _(The Woes of Mrs Jones)_. He is with Daphne and they are an item. He wants to let his mother know that there are two sides to Daphne's story._

Oh, Mom.

What a rant. Did I really deserve it? And yet there was more power in your voice when you used to tell me off for throwing my schoolbag down on the shoe rack as a teenager, more power when you told me to tuck my shirt in at a formal dinner. I thought it was more defeated. Solemn. As if I really was dead. As if she had stabbed me and left me to rot.

Look at me, rating your rant like a critic when all you want me to do is listen to it. I don't know why. You want to know if it moved me? I guess. A little. Deep down and that.

But there's something else here. Something I need to tell you.

My turn to rant.

You knew Daph's parents. They were weird, they weren't good people. I know that better than anybody else. Daph and I do. They tried to kill her, Mom. I told Daphne I'd say if you called, tell you the other side of the story. How they decided to lie in waiting for her, stalk her like lions stalking their prey, and ambush their own daughter with their faces covered. Simply because of how she was.

She's not like them, Mom. She's determined to make a better life for herself and for me, if I stay with her. Which I will. After Dad. I can still feel his hands on my arms in my nightmares, hear his demented scream and know that he hates me. You can't deny it, Mom. He gripped my flesh so hard my skin split and blood was running down my arm when I left the house. He doesn't want me back- if I turned up at the door he would turn me away. He yelled that I wasn't his son anymore. You asked me if that hurt. You don't know the meaning of that kind of pain. The pain that shrieks in your chest, that wants to rip you apart from the inside and destroy you bit by bit. It festers in you, trying to maim you, wanting to make you feel the pain more keenly and more keenly, diverting your mind, your senses, your sleep and your nightmares to it. And you have to resist it, day after day, night after sleepless night. How can I come back after that? After he told me that?

Oh, Mom. If only you were here so I could explain face to face, so you could see the real tears in my eyes as I talked. They're here, trust me, seeping into my sleeve now, but they were there and they were stronger than any tears I've cried before. Not that I cry often.

Well. Not that I used to cry often.

Do you think you're the only victim of this? The only person who was hurt by what happened? The only one who cries into their pillow at night? Not that I do that often. It's just a phrase.

Are you the only person who wishes they could rewind and somehow change the past? Change what happened? No. You aren't. I bet you argued with Dad, but you didn't come after me. You didn't chase me, ask to talk to me, make me promise to stay in touch. The door was open and you just stayed in the doorway, watching as I wiped the blood from my arm and walked away, further and further and further away from you and Dad and my past and what would have been my future. Do you think I liked it? Found it easy? Oh, come on. I know inside that people can see through the tough guy façade, even though I deny it on the outside. You can see further than that, you know me too well. It hurts me to admit it, but the façade never worked for you. I could never defend myself against my own parents.

I liked it that I was me when I was with you. But after this I know that can never happen again. It will never work again. There is too much damage and too much lost and never to be found between us. I'm sorry, Mom. I know you will cry to hear it. But it's true.

Leaving you was like lighting the end of a cigarette. Although I've never tried it. But I've seen it. When you stub it out, the ash crumbles, splits, and fades away into nothing. That's what's happened. The ash has gone and left us with what used to be a relationship, and is now faded and filled with huge gaps where before there was understanding, even love. You will be crying by now, and I'm not much better, although I wish I was. It's much easier to say these things when you're the macho man. But I have to drop the screen when I talk to you. I hate it, but it has to happen. Just as there's not enough left in the future, there's too much there in the past.

I replied, I obeyed you one more time. And now I disobey again, as I did before, as I may never do again.

I will never come back to you.

We have chosen our separate ways, our separate people. I wish I could erase the past and return, like resetting a games console. But life isn't like that.

You told me that. And now it is telling you why I'm not coming back.

And I only have one more little sentence to say to you.

Goodbye, Mom.

A/N: Hope you liked it! Please review, I am so happy when people review- it's so good! Jazzola


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